


Drag Me Under

by Mystrana



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Banter, M/M, Neil POV, Scars, Sexual Content, Supernatural - Freeform, Suspense, after all, ambiguous ending, and you get to decide what happens next, but they will end up together, is it truly andreil if they're not tossing off sass?, light bondage with seaweed, siren!Andrew, this will not be a fluffy HEA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:01:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28413576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystrana/pseuds/Mystrana
Summary: Seaweed dripped a frigid trail down Neil’s back, but that was the least of his worries as a creature emerged up from the waves, his pale blond hair shining in the last of the sunlight and his hazel eyes sparkling like they were made from true gold. The creature’s skin was softly scaled in a pale green that shimmered blue from drops of water. Seaweed was draped across a strong chest and trailed in tendrils that floated on the water.*Neil's a professional Exy player who likes to run on the beach. One evening, when the air is a little colder than usual and the sun seems to set a little sooner than it should, Neil finds himself face to face with a siren, and he's not sure if he's going to make it through their encounter alive...
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 26
Kudos: 170





	1. The First Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, Siren Andrew. He's so very beautiful and deadly in my mind. I hope you guys like him too.

#  1

Sand shifted under Neil's feet as he ran. Waves crashed nearby, colder than usual for the September evening, occasionally high enough on the beach to wet his bare feet. He kept going, the rhythmic pounding of the waves lulling him into a grounded state of mind, even as the water stole his footprints behind him, as if he’d never been there.

Playing professional Exy was everything Neil had hoped for. His teammates didn’t seem to care about his past. They let him in. And some of the time, Neil thought he might be able to do the same for them. 

Another wave lapped the shore, gently erasing the evidence of the last several meters of his run. Neil didn’t look back; he kept heading south along the curve of the beach. He glanced at the sun to track its position in the sky, and figured he still had a good hour before sunset.

Running kept Neil out of his head. Running let Neil ignore the gnawing part of his brain that asked when his life was going to be enough, when he wasn’t just going to be the kid who’d had a murderer for a father who happened to play Exy decently. 

Another half hour of meditative running later, Neil’s legs began to ache pleasantly, a gentle reminder that he was coming up against the edge of his limits at this pace. He took in a deep breath of the salty ocean air and turned around. 

A wave splashed in front of him, stronger in the evening wind. He watched as the footprints he'd just made were dragged out to sea with the rushing water. The sky seemed darker than it should be, the cerulean blue deepening into a purple like a bruise.

Some sea creature, maybe a dolphin, jumped in the water beyond the breakers and caught Neil’s attention. Shielding his eyes against the sun’s reflection in the water, Neil thought he could just make out a fin, curved and elegant. He couldn’t remember for the life of him what the difference between a dolphin and a shark fin was, but he wasn’t about to go swim out to meet it either way.

Neil tried to pick up the pace to beat the swiftly setting sun, even as his legs protested. He hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight, and the small wayside parking had only a single lamppost that seemed to work only half the time. Despite all of that, it was pleasant to work back up the sandy beach, keeping his thoughts out of his mind, and passing nothing and no one. 

Another loud splash had Neil turning his head. There was another fin out in the distance and Neil wondered if it was the same creature or a different one. The thought that he was running alongside a dolphin put a smile on his face. He didn’t have very many “Disney” moments in his life. If nothing else, he was pretty sure Nicky would get a kick out of it when he saw him next.

About five minutes out from his car, the wind took a decidedly chilly turn. Neil, warm and sweating from effort, was thankful for cold air at first. Then he was running faster to try to warm up again. Above him, the sun had dipped low enough that streaks of deep pink and plum blossomed in the sky. He couldn’t help but stop to marvel. Who would have ever thought Neil Josten would be alive long enough to be watching sunsets on the beach? The pink in the sky deepened, darkened, until it was almost blood red. 

A wave crashed on Neil’s feet, the coldness a shock, and he stepped back, putting space between himself and the water. The sand behind him shifted under his foot and he stumbled, catching his footing before he fell.

Quite suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight as a realization that someone was watching him jolted through his body. In the next instant, the pleasant ache of his muscles shifted to quiet alertness as he turned his back to the water and scanned the beach; he could see in all directions for some way, though the settling darkness was beginning to dull the far reaches of his vision.

He didn’t see anyone.

Something cold and wet splashed against his shoulder, and Neil spun around with a loud shout as whoever was behind him laughed.

Seaweed dripped a frigid trail down Neil’s back, but that was the least of his worries as a creature emerged up from the waves, his pale blond hair shining in the last of the sunlight and his hazel eyes sparkling like they were made from true gold. The creature’s skin was softly scaled in a pale green that shimmered blue from drops of water. Seaweed was draped across a strong chest and trailed in tendrils that floated on the water.

Neil stumbled again, and this time, he fell onto his bottom, thumping down hard on the sand as he blinked and wiped at his eyes. 

But he hadn’t stayed alive this long by letting surprises freeze him in place. 

“The fuck kind of fish boy are you?” Neil silently thanked his body for allowing his voice to sound much less unsettled than he actually was.

The creature narrowed his eyes a fraction of an inch, the barest indicator that he’d even heard Neil’s words. 

“You threw  _ seaweed _ at me.” Neil grabbed the slippery seaplant from the sand and flung it at the creature as hard as he could.

With an ease belying the speed he moved at, the creature extended a scaled arm and caught the seaweed as though Neil had only been playing an easy game of catch.

Neil swallowed, hoping his sudden fear didn’t show. The creature was fast.

And he was still silent, still standing firm in the surf, even as the waves crashed unceasing against his back. Neil couldn’t help but follow the trail of the creature’s arm, to his hand, to his long fingers, to the sharp, bone white fingernails adorning them.

“So, I’m going to go now,” Neil called out, taking a step backwards. Eyes not leaving the creature. Calculating that he had five minutes of running just to make it to his car, two if he put in an all-out sprint, and zero if the creature ran as fast as he caught that seaweed.

The creature--the siren, really--didn’t move, didn’t take his eyes off of him.

“Right. Lovely time we’ve had here tonight. Good chat. Hope to never do it again.” Neil took another step farther from the shore. Could the siren come on land? Was that why he stayed in the water?

From the hint of a grin on the creature’s lips, Neil had a sinking sensation in his stomach that he was being toyed with. He weighed his options; turn and run and hope the creature didn’t catch him and rip him apart? Or keep backing up slowly for an eternity?

He didn’t have to make a decision; the siren flashed a grin of bone white teeth and then stalked out of the water, foam dripping from his footsteps. He moved with an unhuman speed and grace. Neil put up his fists, cursing himself for going for a run without a weapon on him and braced himself for a fight.

The next thing he knew, he was facedown in the cold sand, pain blossoming out from his ribs into his lungs and down his back. The siren handily bound Neil’s wrists with strands of seaweed, weaving them together until they held tight against his struggling.

Neil wriggled, the sand scratchy and cold on his arms and face. He turned his cheek, trying to find a way to have a fighting chance. He managed to turn over but the siren laughed again, and Neil realized his legs were already bound as well.

Neil forced himself to push down his nerves, and focus on the siren that was towering over him, assessing his handiwork. “So. Uh. Fish boy.” 

The siren turned his head at the “fish boy” and did not look impressed.

“I’ve got nothing better to call you,” Neil insisted, his mind racing. The sun was near set, and true darkness began to descend around them. The siren didn’t look like he was in the mood to chat, and Neil knew firsthand the energy around them spoke of pain, of death. Of his death.

And yet, the way the siren flicked a lock of his blonde hair behind his ear had Neil thinking for one brief moment,  _ he looks… pretty. _

The thought was startling; it wasn’t something he thought of anyone. Ever. But then he remembered how sirens worked and knew this was what all of his prey probably thought before they died.

“Andrew,” the siren replied after another moment’s consideration.

Neil didn’t know what to say to that, so he stayed silent, trying to figure how he could use this one piece of non-information to his advantage.  _ Keep them talking _ was the general rule, but this siren, Andrew, didn't seem to care to talk.

"So this seaweed seems, uh. Really strong. Stronger than it should be. Maybe we could market it to fishermen. Go into business together."

Andrew tilted his head. He knelt on top of Neil’s legs and considered the intricate knots he'd woven around Neil's wrists, tracing them with a finger. It would've been almost endearing if his fingernails weren't sharp enough to draw blood.

"I don't like to be touched," Andrew said in a tone that indicated that was the extent of his explanation.

"Yeah, well, maybe I don't like being killed," Neil grumbled. Maybe he needed help, because in the rising moonlight, he couldn't help but notice how Andrew's hair shimmered like gold as it blew in the wind. 

And the breeze had been cold, but now Neil wasn't sure what temperature it was; he was just pleasantly warm all over.

"Maybe not," agreed Andrew, his voice somehow conveying the same pleasant warmth. "But it doesn't help me to let you go."

Neil steeled himself with a steady inhale. "But you will?”

Andrew shook his head. His slight smile still showed more than enough of his too-white teeth, and his finger slid from the seaweed to the shirt over Neil’s breastbone. With a purposeful tug, Andrew pulled the material taut, his sharp nail easily splitting the cotton fabric apart until it fell to either side of his body.

Neil twisted in the sand, but he was unable to hide from the truths his skin spoke. Andrew sat back on his heels, gazing at Neil's exposed chest.

"Ah. No wonder you didn't seem as scared as I hoped for," Andrew said, but it was quiet, and Neil might have been listening to words in the waves. 

"You try having a father named 'The Butcher' and see how that goes," Neil shot back, despite the fact that his arms and legs were still completely bound by seaweed.

Andrew leaned forward, the strong lines of his arms and chest barely disguised by his unearthly clothing. He placed a finger on the base of Neil’s throat, the very point of his nail tracing a thin scar that ran down to his collarbone. The scar widened into jagged edges, and Andrew ran his nail so gently over it that Neil began to wonder if he was dreaming.

Then Andrew shifted, putting his weight on Neil’s waist as he straddled him, and the solid presence was much too real to be a figment of his imagination. Andrew pressed his hand flat on Neil’s left side, where the skin from shoulder to belly button was thinner and paler. He slid the hand down to Neil’s waist, pausing before picking up Neil’s wrist and examining his forearm. Neil didn’t need to look to know what Andrew saw there; more scars than Neil cared to count. It had been fifteen by the time he’d given up tracking the new ones as they wove together in a tapestry of his past.

Andrew, hair glittering in the sparkling moonlight, traced those scars up Neil’s arm until he made it to the outline of an iron, scarred forever on Neil’s shoulder. When Andrew put his hand on that scar, Neil couldn’t keep from jumping underneath him. Andrew turned his head to look at Neil closely, his hazel eyes impenetrable. 

“You are no stranger to pain,” He summarized. His eyes slid back to Neil’s neck.

Neil caught his gaze and refused to look away. If pity was the way he was getting out of the night’s encounter alive, then he’d go for it. “It doesn’t mean I’m looking for more.”

Andrew was silent for a long while after that. He didn’t move from Neil’s waist, he didn’t trace the scars again. Behind them, the waves broke on the shore in strong, steady pulses. When the water rushed back into the ocean, Neil thought he heard thousands of silenced cries for help. Despite the calm heat rising from around Andrew, a cold sweat banded on the back of Neil’s neck.

With a sudden, smooth movement, Andrew stood up, the seaweed around his waist swaying like a promise. “Catch and release it is, then.” He bent down for a moment to slice the bonds on Neil’s feet. 

He waited.

Neil realized Andrew wanted him to stand up. With his arms bound and his shirt in tatters behind him, it was no easy feat, but years of Exy practice had him on his feet in moments, as fluidly as he could manage.

Andrew took the seaweed bonds between Neil’s arms and pulled him closer. Neil tried not to stumble into him and barely succeeded. The distance between them was suddenly very, very small, a matter of centimeters. Andrew slit the seaweed with his nails and looked up at Neil with an indecipherable stare. 

“Try to make less stupid decisions, human.”

Sucking in his breath slowly, as if a sudden movement might make Andrew attack again, Neil attempted to take a step backwards. He realized, belatedly, that Andrew was a few inches shorter than him; why he noticed, he didn't know. It didn’t matter. Andrew's presence filled the space between them, blanketed the whole beach and reached out into the ocean until his height meant nothing. 

Andrew tilted his head ever so slightly and bared white fangs, and Neil decided he’d better not try his luck any longer. He turned and ran, sliding the first few steps in the cold sand. He gained his footing and sprinted the last three minutes to his car in less than sixty seconds, not daring to look back. When he’d gotten into the car, he slammed the door shut, backed out of the spot, and was already twenty over the speed limit before he even considered checking the rear view mirror. 

Behind him, there was only darkness and the giant, full moon that couldn’t quite light the way.


	2. A Second Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil should have known he would go back...Andrew threatens Neil the best way he knows how (with a knife.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me just say I love writing siren fic, and I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

# 2

In the bright light of day, it was a lot easier to forget what had happened that odd, dream-like night. Neil threw himself into Exy practice even more than usual, and that routine helped the days pass by. 

Each sunrise, Neil was a little less concerned by what had happened to him on the beach, though he couldn’t decide if concerned was the right word. Each sunset, the memory of the gentle, contemplative way Andrew had traced his scars ran through his head. 

He didn’t go to the beach.

He ran the neighborhood, ran the trails between parks, ran laps at the court. The shifting sensation of sand between his toes remained absent as he pulled on his socks, laced up his shoes, and ran on sidewalks, dirt trails, and asphalt. 

The ground was always sturdy beneath his feet. He missed the challenge of catching his balance in between steps. 

That’s the only reason he thought about going back to the beach. Nothing else. Certainly not a strong, deadly creature who had the chance to kill him and let him go. Neil was smarter than to risk death twice; his past should have made sure of that.

A month later, as he walked to his car after practice, the full moon shone down on him as it began to rise in the sky. The soft glow of light seemed to unlock some small yearning in his chest, and Neil pondered it as he hefted his bag into the backseat before staring up at the sky.

It was like the murmur of the waves whispering inside him, touching something he might call his soul if he hadn’t lost that years ago. 

For a long moment that stretched past the parking lot, he contemplated driving down to the beach to see if the siren, if _Andrew_ , was still there. Still waiting for some unsuspecting late night visitor…. 

_Or perhaps_ , Neil thought, _maybe even just_ me. 

“Hey!”

Neil blinked and looked over. Nicky, one of his teammates, waved in his direction. Neil waved back, a little motion that didn’t quite convey excitement. Nicky didn’t seem to take it personally.

“We’re heading out for some drinks! You should come and join us,” Nicky offered, nodding towards his car, which was full of their teammates.

Neil liked his teammates. He really did. Them accepting him into the team was the whole reason he could play Exy, so it was best to not annoy them too much. Especially not by brooding over a siren who, Neil thought, he could have dreamed up. 

The sensation of seaweed on his wrists and sharp fingernails on his scars was too memorable to be a dream though.

“Well?” Nicky asked, smiling as though Neil wasn’t taking forever to answer a simple yes or no question.

With the full moon watching, Neil slowly nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll come with.”

Less than an hour later, Neil found himself surrounded by his teammates, nursing a soda and listening to the edges of their conversations. The bar was crowded in a comfortable sort of way that Neil had only just begun to be ok with after a life on the run. The crush of so many bodies in one space could have been overly warm, but was instead a pleasant buzz in place of the one he wasn’t chasing with alcohol. 

Neil sighed into his glass. Funny how something like camaraderie and comfort just didn’t feel like home. It was too soft, too complacent. Nicky caught his eye and tried to bring him into a conversation about a movie that’d just come out, but after a few minutes, Neil had run out of contributions. He faded back into the background, content to listen and nod every so often.

From his spot near the end of the bar, he could see out the window. The full moon hung eminent in the sky, still making its way to its peak. Neil stared up for a long minute. Inside, the bar was dim, but outside, the bright streetlights hid the stars surrounding the moon. But Neil had looked up at the sky enough times all those nights he’d slept without a roof over his head that he knew exactly where the bright glow of the Northern Star would be, that he could pick out Aquarius as though it were a neon sign.

“...yeah, as a backliner, right Neil?” Nicky was saying, and Neil broke his connection with the moon to turn back around. 

Nicky’s dark skin was flushed red from drinking, his deep brown hair mussed more than ever. Neil thought he could see what Erik, Nicky’s husband, saw in him. But there was something missing from the equation, something that good looks alone couldn’t do for Neil.

“Yeah,” Neil agreed, not one hundred percent sure what he was agreeing with. But the answer seemed to placate Nicky, so Neil looked back outside.

The moon’s glow pulled straight on Neil’s nonexistent, probably black soul. Something settled in his chest, a decision he didn’t know he needed to make, and he finished the rest of his drink in a slow, decisive sip. 

“Hey, Nicky,” he called over the noise and the heat and the comfort of being safe, “I’m going to head out now. See you at practice.”

Nicky and the others said their good-byes and waved. Nicky thanked him for coming out and insisted he do it again more regularly.

Neil glanced up at the sky as he paused in the doorway of the bar. Without the glass of the window between Neil and the sky, the moon’s glow took on an even heavier weight. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Neil said, halfway between a lie and a promise.

In a way, the night was still young when Neil put his car into gear and began to drive, not towards his apartment, but towards the beach. The sun wouldn’t return for hours and hours, and the moon remained a cold, inviting front. Neil followed the curve of the road with ease, navigating the nonexistent traffic and ignoring the sign stating that the beach was closed at sunset. 

Everything was the exact same, as if he hadn't been gone but a day. He parked, and the car radio fell silent when he took the key out of the ignition. It took a minute for him to open the door, but once he was out of the car and in the mild coolness of the salty sea air, Neil kept moving. The door slammed behind him, the noise sharp in the night. It faded, covered by the sound of waves crashing on the beach that called Neil forward.

A shiver ran down Neil’s spine and he forced his back straight as he walked towards the sand. Out here, away from the lights of hundreds of buildings, the stars spread across the sky and sparkled like jewels. Neil gazed up into the eternity of the milky way, tracing the swirls of the galaxy from one end of the sky to the other. Somehow, despite revealing how small he was in the grand scheme of existence, the stars seemed to encourage Neil. He had left his shoes in the car, and the cold sand was a comforting chill between his toes.

The waves were steadfast and relentless as he made his way along the shore. Neil had been walking for a handful of minutes before a tinge of doubt worked its way into his mind. Perhaps it was silly to come to the beach this late, to think that a creature like the siren might appreciate his visit. 

A particularly large wave crashed at his feet, foamy white water rushing around his toes and doing its best to drag him back to the sea. Neil watched, fascinated, as the moon illuminated the foam before it was broken up by another powerful wave.

When Neil looked up, Andrew was there. He was as Neil had remembered; fierce, short, powerful. 

Andrew tilted his head to one side, watching. Silent. He showed his teeth.

Neil let the silence fill the space between them, let the pull of the stars speak for him, and smiled.

“You make awful decisions,” Andrew said as though they hadn’t been apart for a month, as though Neil didn’t know that he was signing his death warrant by showing up on the shore again.

With a small smirk that the moon would highlight, Neil shrugged. “I guess I can’t live without a little bit of excitement.”

Andrew stepped out of the water, the seaweed clinging to his body as it had before, wrapped around his chest, his waist, his legs. Tendrils of thick seaweed were wrapped around his forearms, but they weren’t thick enough to hide the flash of bone knives.

One of those knives was at the base of Neil’s throat, not close enough to cut. Not far enough for Neil to dodge. 

“You are an idiot,” Andrew continued. 

There was almost an edge of a complaint in the siren’s voice.

“I’ve taken out the hunt,” Neil conceded. “I’ve made it less fun for you.”

“For someone so insightful,” Andrew replied, pressing the very edge of the knife on the thinnest skin of Neil’s neck, “You are entirely too dumb.”

Neil would have nodded his agreement if not for the fact that the movement seemed at odds with the knife against his throat. 

But there was still something dancing on the winds around them, and while Neil didn’t know what it was, he knew it was _there_ and that had to be enough for now.

He put up a hand, as though to place it on Andrew’s arm, and Andrew jerked back violently.

“Do not touch me,” Andrew said as he tucked his knives back into their sheaths. “I will not tolerate that mistake twice.”

Neil nodded, holding up his hands in what he hoped Andrew would take as placating, and tucking them behind his back. “You can bind my hands if you wish,” he said.

“And make it even less fun.” Andrew’s statement was quiet, uninterested. Water dripped from his hair to the sand, leaving tiny divots in the sand. “No, I think not.” 

For a wild moment, Neil thought that Andrew was about to dive back into the waves, and something like panic rose in his chest. He’d sort out his conflicting emotions later; perhaps he could convince Nicky to help him figure out his apparent suicidal tendencies of chasing after mythical creatures. For now, he focused on Andrew.

Neil’s heart pounded in his chest, his feet went cold as his blood rushed to his head. To call out to the siren again was as good as slipping into his casket and closing the lid. But Neil couldn’t leave the darkness between them, couldn’t let the waves be the last sound in his ears. “Andrew.”

Andrew stopped, though he did not speak. 

“I’ll come back again,” Neil said, realizing as he spoke how damned true those words were. “Whether it’s tomorrow night, or next week, or the month after. I’m not sure it matters.”

Exy mattered. Exy was everything Neil wanted and everything he had. Somehow, this seemed even bigger.

The starlight beat down on them, judging their presences beneath them, and Andrew’s expression barely changed.  
  
“You are interesting enough to keep around a few minutes longer.”

He stalked back towards Neil, nearly closing the space between them. A scant handbreadth separated them, and Neil had to tilt his head down just a touch to continue to follow Andrew’s eyes. The golden parts of his hazel eyes gleamed in the night. His skin shimmered under the stars. 

Andrew put his hand on the hem of Neil’s t-shirt and pressed it against Neil’s skin. His fingertips were warmer than the blue-green hue of his skin might suggest, his nails deliciously sharp points against Neil’s nerves. 

“I could destroy you in a single breath,” Andrew said. It was not a threat; it was a promise. It was not a boast, or a triumph. It was simple fact, spoken evenly. He almost sounded disappointed over how easy it would be.

Neil nodded. “I know.”

Andrew scraped sharp points down Neil’s stomach, gliding over scars, not deep enough to break skin. Neil’s heart was going haywire, and his breathing was uneven. The waves broke over their ankles, and Neil didn’t notice. Andrew’s hand stopped just above the waistband of Neil’s shorts. Neil held his breath.

“You’d follow me into the ocean without a second thought,” Andrew stated, another fact, and Neil swallowed his fear when he realized it was true.

The way his blood rushed through his body, the way his pulse beat in his ears, the way his chest vibrated with something he didn’t quite understand. Neil realized the heat was starting to center in his groin, something almost painfully warm, almost desperately needy. Andrew’s hand was inches away from his cock, and for the first time in his life, that meant something. 

“So are you suicidal, or simply self destructive?” Andrew asked, his hand dropping another inch.

Neil couldn’t think clearly. Lonely? He had a whole team to rally around him and Nicky had shown him that he was welcome. Bored? Surely he could think of better ways to cure boredom, right?

Self destructive?

No, he just liked life best when his heart was racing, when his blood was cycling through his body faster and faster to keep up. Exy was a good way to feel alive, but when practice was over, when the game was over, what was left?

“Tick tock, do you not understand how questions work?” Andrew asked, moving his hand away.

Neil blinked, surprised at the surge of _want_ that slammed into him, something that he was not used to feeling. It was like a warmth deep inside him, like standing on the edge of the cliff and wondering what it would feel like to jump into the water below. He found himself almost desperate to chase it. 

“I--” Neil began, and when he faltered, Andrew started to turn away. “Self destructive!” 

“Ahhh.” Andrew turned back. He tilted his head to the side like he was listening to the murmur of the waves and agreed with their suggestions. He smiled. All of his teeth showed, and he pressed his hand against Neil’s groin, long fingers and sharp fingernails touching him through his shorts.

Neil's breath was more of a hiss of intense need and if possible, Andrew's grin grew wider.

“You have no clue what you are getting yourself into,” Andrew said, tracing the outline of Neil’s cock with a single finger. “But I’m willing to take you under.”

“I’ll drag you down with me,” Neil breathed out, aware that his threat was baseless, but unable to take it back. The words hung between them.

Andrew palmed Neil’s cock through the cloth, his hands simultaneously hot and cold, sending chills and shivers up Neil’s spine and sparks of warmth deep into his core. 

A moment later, Andrew’s hand was gone, and Neil almost reached out to pull it back, stopping only at the last moment. Andrew made a noise that Neil couldn’t place and when he looked into Andrew’s eyes, there was an intensity that would have stopped a lesser man in his tracks. Neil remembered to breathe.

“Do you want this?” Andrew asked, putting his hand between them again, and Neil’s lips scrambled over themselves to say _yes_. “Then don’t touch me, and take off your shirt,” Andrew said.

Years of instinctual hesitation made Neil pause for a split second before his brain reminded him that Andrew had already seen everything under his shirt. Neil grabbed the hem, and brought the shirt over his head. He vaguely thought that he ought to be shivering, but looking into Andrew’s eyes kept him warm even as his lips went blue on the very edges.

“Once again, I wonder,” Andrew said, his eyes raking over Neil’s body. “Are you so careless with your life or are you so bound on living that you push past these marks?" 

It was a question, but Neil didn't know the exact answer. 

"A truth," he offered. "I don't want to die."

Andrew considered the truth, turned it over in the space between them, let the moonlight weigh in on its validity, the waves crash on its strength.

"You are not able to see the line that blurs in your statement," Andrew said, closing the space between them. "And for you, a truth as well. I will be here long after you have died, after your body has returned to ash, this moment but a blink in my existence."

Neil couldn't help the shudder that spread like a wave from the base of his neck out to his hands, down to his very toes. The cold, wet sand shifted under his feet, like the water was inviting him in.

 _This is how it ends,_ Neil thought to himself. Andrew was an immovable, solid presence in front of him, somehow both protecting him from the call of the sea and bringing him right to its edge.

Andrew ran warm hands and cold fingernails down Neil's chest, leaving faint, raised red marks in their wake and leaving Neil dizzy on his feet.

And then Andrew tilted his head, considered something, and took Neil's face in his hands. Their breath mingled in the air and Andrew kissed Neil.

Blood rushed through Neil's ears, a roaring louder than the ocean behind them. He hadn’t expected Andrew’s lips to be so warm, hadn’t expected that when they pressed together, it was like a storm of lightning sweeping through his body, leaving him unable to think about anything except Andrew and how he needed him even closer, how he never wanted to let go.

The lightning crashed between them as Andrew slid his tongue along Neil’s lower lip. Neil opened his mouth on instinct, eager to welcome him, and then all of a sudden, Andrew stopped, sliding his hands down Neil’s neck to hold his shoulders and keep three inches of space between them.

“Do you want this?” Andrew asked, his expression intent as he looked up at Neil. Something warred in the black emptiness of Andrew’s pupils, something that Neil couldn’t place. 

All Neil could think of was having him closer, having the salty scent of the sea curling in his nose, the brine of the ocean on Andrew’s tongue in his mouth. But Andrew refused to move another inch, and Neil pieced together his thoughts through the fog of desire.

“Wasn’t aware I got to make a decision,” Neil said, his voice breathier than he’d ever heard before. “I know how it goes. The siren seduces their target, their target drowns at sea. There’s not a ‘choice’ beyond what I’ve already made by coming back.”

Andrew shook his head, his stance firm and resolute and final. “This time, there is.” He tipped Neil’s head gently to the side, exposing Neil’s neck, and nuzzled into the space he created. Andrew’s hair was wet and soft against Neil’s cheek and water dripped down Neil’s throat. Neil could have stayed there forever when Andrew pressed a kiss against the soft skin of his pulse point and suddenly, the sand underneath him was unstable. 

Neil stumbled back, touching his lips. They were icy cold. A rush of frosty cold night air wrapped around him, sending him into shivers. He hugged his arms around his chest, but it did nothing to help block out the cold. The wind whipped through his hair, sending chills down his spine. 

In front of him, Andrew stood, an unmoving, implacable presence. He had his hands on his hips, and he waited, unbothered by the cold. 

“What did you do?” Neil asked between chattering teeth.

Andrew raised an eyebrow, daring him to put two and two together. Waiting to see whether Neil’s answer would be a rational four or an unreasonable five.

“Oh shit.” Neil sunk to his feet, curling up in a ball and bouncing on the balls of his feet to stay warm. “You were _seducing_ me with your, uh, siren powers.”

“Glad to see your learning curve is not a horizontal line,” Andrew replied, though his expression wasn’t as emotionless as his words. 

Neil shivered, trying to piece his raw and open thoughts together. It hadn’t been this cold outside the bar, but the night’s sudden chill heralded a cold front rapidly approaching. He stared up at Andrew.

Andrew was an eerie and unreal presence, silhouetted by the moon’s glow behind him. His wind-whipped hair settled messily to the side, his gaze like stone. Stars highlighted the strength of his legs, the curve of his waist. Neil wanted a blanket and hot tea, but more than anything, he wanted Andrew. He wanted Andrew’s face against his throat, Andrew’s hands around his waist. 

He’d never wanted any of that before, but now, with Andrew in front of him, he couldn’t imagine _not_ wanting it. 

“You should leave,” Andrew said after a minute. Unconcerned. Unbothered. Neil was nothing he hadn’t seen before. Clouds started rolling in from the edges of the heavens, blotting out stars as they seeped across the sky.

Neil pressed his lips together, shivering. 

“It’s a bit chilly for a human tonight.” Andrew turned, his back to Neil. His shoulders went still for a moment, as if he was steeling himself for something. "You should leave now."

“I should stay,” Neil said, pushing to his feet, even as the first few drops of rain started to fall, icy cold and chilling him to the bone. “I want to stay.”

Andrew held out a hand in warning, still not turning back to Neil. As the clouds overtook the moon, his form became impossible to make out from the rush of ocean waves. “There’s nothing for you here, no future.”

“But, I-” 

“You need to go.”

Lightning shuddered across the sky, and thunder followed less than a second later. Sudden rain pelted Neil’s exposed skin, and the waves began to swell.

“Andrew,” Neil tried one last time, and how Andrew heard him over the din of the sudden outpour of rain, Neil would never know.

Andrew turned towards Neil, and shook his head. “You were supposed to be a hallucination.”

Neil frowned, freezing cold. His head hurt; his fingers were stiff. He hurt too much to be a hallucination. “I’m not.”

“No,” Andrew agreed. “You’re too real.”

The flash of light that struck near the water lit up Andrew’s face in an eerie glow, throwing deep shadows across his features and contorting his face into something like longing. When the rumble of thunder shook Neil’s chest, he finally realized he _had_ to go. He glanced back behind him, hoping to see his car against the pouring rain. When he turned back, Andrew was gone.

Maybe Andrew wasn’t the one having hallucinations, Neil thought as he dashed to his car. He sat, sopping wet and shivering violently as the engine heated up and the skies continued to pour ice cold rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH THE ANGST. Neil and Andrew will return for one final chapter, of course. :)


	3. Culmination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil's final return to the beach

# 3

“Alright Neil, I’ve gotta ask. Are you a werewolf?”

Neil blinked. Once. Twice. Nicky loomed in front of him in the locker room, looking vaguely concerned, like he was afraid that there was a world where werewolves existed and Neil was one of them. Several months ago, Neil would have scoffed; that was before he met Andrew.

"No," Neil said, going for the straightforward response as he undid his forearm bracers. He wondered briefly if supernatural powers would have helped or hindered his chances with Andrew. “I’m not a werewolf.”

Nicky ticked his gloved fingers as he counted reasons. "You’re never around for a full moon. You're really fast. Like, really fast. Your eyes are ridiculously blue."

"Still not a werewolf," Neil countered, unclipping his protective neckpiece.

"I'm on to you," Nicky said, tapping his temple. "Maybe not a werewolf. Werecat? Wererabbit?"

Neil shook his head. He put his armored gear to the side, and grabbed a towel so he could head to the showers. “None of the above.”

“Ok,” Nicky said. He paused, an uncharacteristic show of restraint, and then added, “But you’re doing ok? You know that we’re all here for you, right?”

Neil turned back to look at Nicky, confusion furrowing his forehead. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m fine.”

And he was. He was fine. Just, he went to the beach once a month, wearing a thick jacket and heavy gloves and a hat. He went to the beach every full moon and sat on the sand until the glow of the full moon traded places with the too-bright sun. He went to the beach looking for Andrew, and every full moon passed without a trace of the siren.

Neil was fine. But there’d been something in Andrew’s eyes that he’d never seen before, even when Andrew removed his charm, even when it was just him and Andrew and nothing magical between them. And it was enough to draw him in. 

To pull him under. 

To keep him fixated on only Andrew.

It was probably stupid that he trusted Andrew when he said he’d taken off his charm, but Neil remembered the way the air had flipped from a pleasant warmth to a dangerous cold. He had no clue what Andrew wanted, and barely understood what he wanted himself. His sigh echoed against the tiles.

“Yeah,” he repeated under the steaming hot water of the shower, so quiet he could barely hear it. “I’m fine.”

~~~

The next full moon was a game night. Neil’s heart thudded against his chest in uneasy waves as he half-heartedly listened to the pre-game huddle, doing his best to shut out thoughts of Andrew. He needed to concentrate on his backline mark, to remember the plays, to focus.

Funny how walking onto the Exy court to a thunderous cheer didn’t touch him in the same way that Andrew’s nails down his back did.

Neil got into a ready position, as the dealers headed to the middle of the court. His backline mark was already throwing out insults over his height, but the moon was full and all Neil heard was Andrew’s voice. 

_“You should leave.”_

_“You were supposed to be a hallucination.”_

_“I’m willing to take you under.”_

“Neil!”

That was Nicky’s voice. Belatedly, Neil realized that the ball was already in play, and heading his way. He flung up his racquet just in time to catch a pass. He couldn’t spin fast enough, and the backliner crashed into him. Somehow, Neil managed to absorb the impact and keep possession of the ball, just long enough to send off a decent pass.

“I thought you were supposed to be fast on your feet,” his mark said, almost disappointed.

Neil shrugged. His side hurt from where they’d collided, but a quick inventory of his body came up with no other injuries, so he threw himself back into the game as best he could. Would Andrew be impressed with his speed, with the way he ratcheted a pass off of the wall and slammed the ball into the goal? 

With the way that he nearly tripped over his own feet when the clouds above the open air stadium shifted and the moonlight bathed the sky?

By halftime, the score was tied, no thanks to Neil’s efforts. A budding tension blanketed the air of the locker room, and his teammates were staring at him when he came in, the last player off the court. 

“Josten. Where was your head during first half?” Coach’s brows were furrowed and he searched Neil’s face. “What’s going on?”

“I’m fine,” Neil said, hoping his face reflected the lie, that the truth wasn’t written in the shadows under his eyes.

“Why don’t we send out Jones for the start of second half?”

Neil shook his head, but his protest died in his throat. He nodded. “Yeah. Sounds good.” He went to find his water bottle, and Nicky followed him.

“Hey,” Nicky hissed, the moment they were out of earshot of their team. “It’s a _full moon_.” 

Yeah, Neil thought, and he was losing his monthly chance to see Andrew by standing here, miles from the beach. 

“Do you need to like…” Nicky paused, searching for the right word. “Go? To do your thing?”

“My thing.” Neil repeated, realizing that Nicky was still convinced he was some sort of supernatural being.

“Yeah, uh,” Nicky continued. “I realized we’d never had a game on the full moon before and I’ve never seen you, uh. Play this way before.”

“You mean suck,” Neil said, spitting the word in the open. Nicky wasn’t wrong to point it out, but it still stung. Neil couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t given every part of himself to Exy.

Somehow, Andrew had stolen a part of him, and Neil was playing tonight with a gaping wound, blood spilling with every step.

Nicky rubbed behind his head, looking sheepish. “I wouldn’t quite say that,” he began.

Neil put up a hand. “It’s ok. It’s the truth. I am distracted. _Not_ because you think I’m a werewolf.”

“Wererabbit,” Nicky corrected, automatically.

Neil rolled his eyes. The buzzer sounded for the one minute warning to get back on court. Nicky didn’t leave; he wasn’t starting the second half either.

“We have it covered tonight, Neil,” Nicky said, a sudden seriousness to his voice. “Look. It doesn’t matter what you are or aren’t, but there’s clearly something you need to do tonight and…” he trailed off, unable to meet Neil’s eyes. “It’s hard to see you like this.”

Like what? It wasn’t like Neil was some strung out junkie, trying to catch his next fix. He just didn’t want to waste his one chance of the month to see Andrew. He just...needed to see Andrew.

He put a hand on his racquet, trying to remember the excitement, the thrill of going on the court. Of scoring his first point. Winning his first game. Joining his first professional team.

Except this time, there wasn’t that jolt of electricity, that thrill of what the next two hours of the game would bring. There was just a piece of polished wood in his team colors in his hand. Neil swallowed heavily.

Nicky gathered up courage to search Neil’s face, like he expected to see an answer in Neil’s eyes, or the set of his jaw, or anything.

A weight settled on Neil’s shoulders; their teammates were all back at the outer court, the buzzer had gone off for the beginning of the half. They’d be missed soon. The air thickened as the finality of his decision hit him, until Neil wasn’t sure he could breathe. Neil sucked in a great gulp of air, tried to fill his lungs, but his lungs were paperweights in his chest.

“Neil?” Nicky asked, concern coloring his tone. He reached out towards Neil, to offer a thump to the back.

“Yeah,” Neil choked out. “I’m fine. I just need to go.”

Guilty that Nicky had no clue that Neil meant _forever_ , Neil turned and ran.

He didn’t bother to take off his jersey, he didn’t unclip his armor, he just sprinted to his car, forever thankful that it was a home game and that he wasn’t hundreds of miles away from the coast.

Because right now, he was pretty sure he’d drive three hundred miles straight if it meant a chance to see Andrew.

It was close to midnight by the time Neil made it to the beach, and his heart still raced with the implication of his choice. He’d barely thrown the car into park before he got out and ran up to the shore, not even walking along the curve of the beach, and shouting into the crashing waves.

“Andrew!” he called, stumbling onto the wet sand. “Andrew, I can’t--I don’t know what to do. Please!”

Silence. 

Neil sat down heavily on the sand, the wetness soaking into his shorts, his jersey. The waves crashed inches from his shoes. A spray of water soaked the front of his shin guards. The water was laughing at him.

Neil’s heart thrummed in his chest, his legs ached with the urge to move, to do something, to get out this excess energy. A plan formed in his mind, a realization. Maybe Andrew wasn’t going to come to him; maybe he had to go to Andrew.

He stood up, already unclipping his gear and letting it drop to the sand. It was too dark to see far, even with the full moon reflecting on the rough surface. Another wave crashed, loud enough to drown out Neil’s sudden laughter. Like Andrew had a house Neil could find. 

He kicked off his shin guards, and they skidded to a stop a few feet away. Neil was so far out of his element, so out of control. Was he laughing? Crying? Both? By the time he’d stripped off his jersey and shoulder pads, and stood in front of the ocean in only a pair of athletic shorts, it felt almost like a homecoming.

And that scared the shit out of Neil, because he didn’t have a home. He’d never felt this before, he’d never stood outside a door that welcomed him _home_ , every door he’d opened on the run had been temporary, always with the understanding that he wouldn’t be opening that door before the year was done. He’d tried trying to ground himself with roots, with Nicky, with his team, with Exy.

None of it compared to standing in front of the vast sea, the dark water stretching to reach the star-lit horizon, the two of them mingling in a contorted, constantly moving mirror of each other. The stars twinkled above the water and below the water, and darkness filled the space between.

Neil took a deep breath, holding it in as he stared up once more to the sky. He traced the constellations, the endless, boundless atmosphere surrounding him. Something burned inside him, a fire borne of thousands of little sparks, all the moments of his life he had wished for something more. 

He had found it.

He let out his breath as his focus shifted to the sea. The waves responded, relentless, constant, murmuring. His heart pounded to their rhythm, almost audible over their noise. 

Neil took a step into the water. The early spring water was cold, but not intolerable. The salt spray of the waves wound around him like gripping fingers, pulling him towards the beat that his heart matched. Somewhere deep off of the shore, Andrew was out there, and Neil knew, without a doubt, that tonight, he would find him.

The once heavy humidity settled into his lungs, and he accepted it as a wave broke against his body, splashing up his legs and onto his hips and stomach. A sudden movement behind him had the hairs of his neck on edge, and goosebumps dotted his arms as he turned around, just in time to dodge the knife coming at his neck.

Neil moved fast, but Andrew moved faster. Andrew flipped the knife, changed directions, and was waiting for Neil. Neil dropped down low, and the sudden shock of water on his body threatened to knock the wind out of his lungs, but self preservation kept him moving. He tucked his legs up, and rolled into the next wave, springing up into the air.

Andrew tossed the knife with a flick of his wrist. At that close of a range, there wasn’t a universe where Neil couldn’t have dodged it, but instead of tearing his skin, the knife pinged against the thin metal of his neckpiece. Neil automatically brought a hand to his throat. He’d forgotten to take it off, and it saved his life.

He didn’t have time to process that, because Andrew was stalking towards him, moving with a liquid grace through the water borne of years, decades, perhaps centuries of practice. Neil was powerless to stop him, unable to run away. 

And yet.

He put his hands to the side, and, knee deep in the water, he waited.

Andrew didn’t stop until there were a few scant inches of space between them. The slope of the sand meant they were almost exactly on eye level. Andrew raised his arm, another bone knife between his fingers.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave this knife in your throat,” Andrew growled out.

A wave crashed against Neil’s back. He shook his head. Barely trusting his voice, he met Andrew’s gaze. The moonlight shone, and for the first time, Neil realized that Andrew’s skin was glowing, faint but steady. 

“I can’t leave you,” Neil said. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I don’t know why. But I-” Neil swallowed, heavily. “I can’t keep going without you.”

“This isn’t a romantic daydream,” Andrew ground out, his arm still raised. “What do you think is going to happen? That I can just transform into a ‘real boy’ and leave the sea? That we can sit here on the sand and watch the sunrise together? You know nothing.”

“I know,” Neil agreed. “But I’m willing to figure it out.”

Andrew dropped his arm, but not the knife. The breath he took in seemed studded with the weight of a thousand years, and his voice was laced with venom. “Do you think to bring me home to your parents? To try to parade me as your pet?”

“My parents are dead,” Neil said, and the enormity of the universe swallowed up his truths and demanded more. “I don’t need to parade you anywhere.”

Andrew stared at Neil, and Neil refused to stand down. The waves buffeted against him, and Andrew stood between him and the sand. He took in every inch of Andrew’s presence as Andrew did the same.

Neil’s heart was about to burst from his chest. Whatever he felt was reflected in the intensity of Andrew’s moonlit eyes.

“Then what do you want?” Andrew demanded, his voice a low rumble.

The stars shone down on Andrew, on the one thing that Neil was sure of, more than he’d ever been in his life. He’d spent years honing his reflexes in situations where trusting his gut instincts were the only way to make decisions fast enough to stay alive. And right now, his entire body was screaming at him that this was right.

His hands still firmly at his sides, Neil leaned forward, changing the distance between them from inches to centimeters. His words brushed on Andrew’s lips. “I want to kiss you.”

Like a dam breaking, Andrew was the sudden flood surrounding Neil as he took his face in his hands, his sharp fingernails resting on his jaw. He kissed Neil like he was drowning, and Neil was his last breath of air.

Funny, because Neil kissed back like he wanted to drown in him, like he wanted Andrew to press into all of the open, empty spaces inside him, and fill him with heat and purpose.

Wave after wave crashed against them and around them, baptizing them with salt spray, even though there was no water holy enough to save Neil from himself. He parted his lips, and Andrew’s tongue danced along his teeth, his tongue, the inside of his cheek. 

Andrew traced sharp fingertips down Neil’s throat, wrapped his hands around Neil’s shoulders, and kissed Neil like their lives depending on it. Somewhere, vaguely, Neil thought it might. The air around them sparked with the heat from their bodies, the water not enough to cool down the blush that rose to Neil’s cheeks and chest and spread as Andrew kissed him as relentlessly as the sea.

Moonlight caught and twinkled on the drops of water on their skin, until even Neil seemed to shimmer like a polished gemstone. Andrew’s hands kept moving, tracing lines down Neil’s back, spanning Neil’s waist and pulling him even closer, going lower until the curve of Neil’s ass rested in Andrew’s hands. He pushed forward, forcing Neil to take a step back, to wade deeper into the water, until it came up around his thighs.

Neil’s breath was harsh and heavy in his ears, his heart thumping against his chest, his body demanding _more._ Neil knew, in the abstract, what _more_ was, but he’d never wanted it before. It took him a minute to even process the desire, and another minute to form a coherent sentence.

Even then, all he could manage was, “I need you, Andrew,” and it came out in a choked, wrecked voice that Neil had never heard from himself before.

Andrew’s inhale at Neil’s words was sharp and intense. He held Neil impossibly closer, until Neil’s erection, still trapped in his shorts, pressed heavily against Andrew’s thick thigh. Neil rocked against Andrew’s leg, desperate. He would have been content to rut against him like a dog in heat if it meant he could get off, but Andrew put a firm hand on Neil’s abdomen and stopped him from moving. 

Neil opened his mouth, couldn’t get a word out, and then Andrew licked his lips with a meaningful glance towards Neil’s erection.

And if Neil thought he couldn’t breathe before, the sight of Andrew sinking to his knees in the sand and water, until just his shoulders and head broke the surface of the water, nearly destroyed him.

For an endless moment, Andrew tilted his head up to make eye contact with Neil before sliding blue-tinged fingers inside Neil’s waistband, and pulling on the fabric until it eased down just enough to free Neil’s cock.

Andrew gripped Neil’s hips tight, as much to brace himself against the waves as to keep Neil standing upright, because then Andrew smiled at him with perfect, white, sharp teeth, and took Neil in his mouth.

Neil’s hips jolted forward, an automatic move that he was powerless to stop. Andrew’s mouth was so incredibly warm and soft. They were thigh deep in water, but Andrew’s mouth was wet in a whole new way, like silk on Neil’s cock. Neil’s breath was more of a choked gasp, and then a keening mewl, and then another thick gasp as Andrew sucked him off relentlessly. 

Heat blossomed in Neil’s groin, a spark of white hot fire, and it spread through Neil’s body until he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so warm, so desperate, so needy. He balled his hands into tight fists, his fingernails pressing into his palms, as he fought the urge to touch Andrew.

Andrew must’ve noticed, because he reached up, and directed Neil’s hands to his head, helped Neil wrap his fingers in his hair. And, oh, if that wasn’t almost enough to make Neil come. He twitched in Andrew’s mouth, helpless to keep his hips still. Andrew did nothing to make it easier for Neil. He just gripped Neil’s hips even tighter, until his fingernails left divots in Neil’s skin, and took even more of Neil’s cock in his mouth.

Neil panted and groaned, and twisted his fingers in Andrew’s hair, and waves hit his back and splashed around Andrew’s face, but it didn’t seem to matter, because Andrew just didn’t let up. The warmth in his groin expanded and grew and shuddered deep inside Neil, until he wasn’t sure if the water on his face was from the ocean spray or from tears. He cried out, never wanting this moment to end and unable to stop himself from barreling over the edge into his orgasm.

The last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was Andrew, his nose pressed against Neil’s pubic bone, his lips stretched taut and shiny around Neil’s cock, and his eyes locked on Neil’s. Andrew’s eyes had a bright, otherworldly glow to them, so bright that Neil swore he saw himself reflected in the honey gold.

Neil came, pulsing into Andrew’s mouth with a series of aborted gasps and his hips twitching, held in place only by Andrew’s firm grip. Andrew kept him in his mouth the entire time, swallowing around his cock until Neil was so sensitive that he was sure he was crying, and then Andrew was back on his feet, his hands back on Neil’s face, and his mouth on Neil’s mouth.

Somehow, Neil had stumbled back a few more steps, and the water had risen to his waist. He panted, still unbearably warm. 

“What do you want, Neil?” Andrew asked, his voice dangerous and deep, and the only thing Neil ever wanted to hear again in his life. The waves pulled at his shoulders.

“I,” Neil breathed out, unable to force a full, deep breath into his lungs, unable to articulate the edge that they were about to topple off of, unable to explain the enormity of _them, together_ in whatever form that took.

The water surged and swallowed them up to their throats. 

Neil’s last breath was just enough to form three simple words: “I want you.”

Andrew’s grin was mystical, magical, full of promise and desire and something even more intense. He wrapped his arms, strong and powerful, around Neil, and the last thing Neil heard before a giant waved crested over their heads was Andrew’s dark growl: 

“ _Then follow me under_.”

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry my friends, Andrew is going to work some siren magic on Neil and he’ll breathe underwater and it’ll be great!!! My part in this story ends at that moment, but feel free to speculate how their relationship goes from here; does Andrew turn Neil and they live their lives out as sirens together, wrecking havoc across the seven seas? Does Neil go back to land, but come visit Andrew each month? All answers are valid. Thank you so much for reading! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! I'd love to hear your thoughts about Siren!Andrew and what you think he and Neil might do in this next phase of their lives. :)
> 
> Find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Mystrana_) and [tumblr](https://mystrana.tumblr.com/)


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